


The Difficult Task

by dani_dabbles



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Battle wounds, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injured Alec Lightwood, Major Character Injury, Malec, Mental Health Issues, Protective Magnus Bane, Supportive Magnus Bane, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dani_dabbles/pseuds/dani_dabbles
Summary: When Alec hits his lowest point, Magnus stands ready to pull him back up.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 31
Kudos: 275





	The Difficult Task

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure where this came from but I offer you this somewhat angsty Malec one-shot. 
> 
> Mind the tags.

> _It is easy to go down into hell;  
>  night and day the gates of dark death stand wide;  
> but to climb back up again, to retrace one's steps to the open air;  
> there lies the problem, the difficult task._

> _ Virgil,  The Aeneid _

**  
[ NOW ]**

He shouldn’t have noticed it. This crumbling, burnt piece of paper he now held in his hand. 

Magnus had breezed into his love’s office via portal hoping to find him and drag him away from reports long enough to escape to the Napa Valley for dinner at one of their favorite wineries. But the office was oddly silent except for the soft but consistent pinging of message notifications coming from the tablet on Alec’s desk - sure sign that Alec did indeed need a break from a job that never gives him adequate rest. Now if he could only find the man that was noticeably absent. 

Doing a final cursory sweep of the room before seeking out his dashing Shadowhunter, Magnus had noticed the paper at the edge of the fireplace, slightly smoldering. He had only meant to move it to prevent a fire hazard but that was before he saw the words written hastily across its surface that gave him pause. The blackened edges and minor holes did little to censor its content.

**_Just like the Clave_ **

****

**_...come to resent you_ **

**_...best just isn’t good enough..._ **

**_why are you still here…_ **

**_...selfish and naive_ **

**_embarrassed us all_ **

Followed by repetitive lines of 

**_Not good enough_ **

**_Not good enough_ **

**_Not good enough_ **

**_Not good enough_ **

**_Not good enough_ **

Until they trailed off in a mess of blotted, smeared ink.

More notifications annoyingly ping from Alec’s desk and Magnus fights the urge to shatter the device with a flick of his wrist. Because fuck the Clave and their ever growing list of demands and pressure on the young Head of the New York Institute. And fuck the Shadowhunter’s standard of perfection, of looking the other goddamned way when one of their own is crumbling under the pressure. 

And fuck this ugly piece of paper for taunting him with all the evidence that he is failing his Shadowhunter. _Again_.

Alec has been so much better these past few months. After the incident back in October. After Magnus had to bring his love back from the brink of utter self-destruction. 

He chokes back on the anger and disgust that climbs like sour bile up his throat. His magic responds to his tumultuous emotions as if he’s in physical danger. Blue flames flicker and jump down his arms ready to snap out at any unexpected threat.

Magnus resists the urge to throw the damned thing back in the fire and let the heat destroy every accursed word. But now is not the time for a magical fit of rage.

Instead he tucks the paper into his pocket. 

A reminder. 

A promise.

But right now he needs to find Alexander.

Magnus flicks his hand and the office door explodes open banging against the wall. Paintings fall but Magnus is already down the hall before they hit the floor.

_///////////////////////////////////////_

**[ LAST OCTOBER ]**

_He needs you._

The text comes through and Magnus doesn’t hesitate. He immediately stands from his seat, one hand already flicking to open a portal, “I’m sorry. I must go.”

In different circumstances, Magnus might be more bothered at his lack of manners abruptly leaving a meeting with other High Warlocks without explanation. But there is not a universe in existance where those ten letters won’t take precedence over everything else. 

Seconds later the portal snaps closed behind him and the silence of the New York Institute greets him. Standing in the middle of the ops center, Magnus feels like the only soul in the building. Tracks of ichor in various boot tread patterns stain the typically pristine floors, angelic weapons are strewn about as if dropped and forgotten, and the only light comes from the monitors glowing with various maps and statistics. Magnus decides right then he’d have rather entered into chaos with alarms sounding and Shadowhunters running about. 

Because this silence holds the weight of tragedies already past. 

“Oh thank the angel you’re here.”

The soft words have barely made it to his ears before arms are thrown around him from behind. 

Magnus detaches the rune marked arms from his torso just long enough to turn around and better embrace Isabelle Lightwood.

“Where is he?”

Isabelle sniffles, her face still firmly pressed against Magnus’ chest. “The roof.”

They give each other a quick squeeze of comfort and understanding, but either want him to linger. Magnus needs to find Alexander. Quickly

The autumn wind is harsher on the Institute’s roof, spearing sharply through the material of Magnus’ wool coat. Even though dawn is fast approaching, the roof of the Institute is a shadowed haven for his reclusive archer. But like a moth to a flame, Magnus zeroes in on the lone figure sitting precariously on the ledge, so close the slightest movement could tip them over the edge. 

He approaches cautiously but with heavy footfalls so his presence is known. 

“Alexander?”

The already taunt shoulders, tighten even more. It's the only reaction to indicate Alec heard him. 

Now at the edge with him, Magnus slowly lowers himself to sit next to Alexander, his movements slow and unhurried because of the fight or flight energy radiating from the distressed man. They have been here before. Magnus knows Alexander well enough to know that when he is overwhelmed or upset he will either lash out or refuse to acknowledge the issue all together. Both are fine by Magnus. He can withstand a potential verbal onslaught if that’s what Alec needs, and he can just as easily sit here all night offering his company in silence.

Alec doesn’t look over or acknowledge Magnus. Instead, the Head of the New York Institute sits, hunched over his lap, limbs slightly trembling. Magnus can tell his hands are working against one another, digging, pinching at one another - a terrible tick that Magnus made note of a long time ago. So he asks, “Darling, what can I do? What do you need?” There was no use in asking him if he’s okay or if something was wrong, because the answer to both questions was glaringly obvious.

Alec only offers a subtle shake of his head. 

Magnus can’t hold himself back any longer. The desperate need to comfort his lover has him prying the man’s hands from where they are fidgeting in his lap. It's not until he is interlacing his left hand with Alec’s right that he notices the wetness of their grip. 

He holds Alec’s hand up for closer inspection.

Blood. 

In the limited light of the night it looks black against Alec’s alabaster skin as it coats his hand and trails down his wrist beyond the sleeves of his leather jacket. 

Still not looking at Magnus, Alec whispers, “I’m fine.”

Magnus turns the hand and finds a deep wound across Alec’s palm. A horrific cut slices diagonally from finger to wrist, edges ragged and torn. The tendons are exposed and quite possibly damaged but Magnus can’t tell through the mess of dark blood which still sluggishly pulses from the wound.

An iratze. That is Magnus’ first thought. He should have used an iratze rune by now. But why-

Magnus knows why. He knows Alec’s ways of coping. Throwing punches at the bag in the gym until his knuckles bleed. Letting arrows fly until blood trails between his fingers. Staying awake for over 36 hours because he _has_ to do whatever task the Clave has assigned him to perfection. 

But this it's different. This isn’t a superficial wound that can be easily remedied. This could be debilitating. The mobility of his dominant hand is at risk. 

This borders on self-inflicted torture. 

With dawning horror and an overwhelming need to be sick, Magnus reaches for Alec’s left hand still hidden in his lap. Alec flinches and ducks lower like he’s trying to fold up on himself and disappear entirely.

Magnus chokes back the bile as he sees blood coating his lover’s fingertips and thumb. 

The image of Alec digging into the wound of his right hand is so vivid and horrific in Magnus’s mind that he has to look away for a moment. He shuts his eyes against the truth of the situation he’s found his Shadowhunter in. 

When he looks back to Alexander, he sees the city lights reflect off the teardrops falling from the man’s down turned face onto his black clothes. 

Magnus can’t disguise his own pain, woundedly saying, “Alexander-”

“It’s never enough, you know, I- I am never enough.”

Alec’s confession slips into the dark night and strikes Magnus in the gut stealing the oxygen from his lungs, rendering him speechless. 

Because the thought of Alec thinking he is not enough is the most ludicrous idea Magnus has ever heard. Because to Magnus, Alexander is everything. Magnus would never even say Alec was enough for him. That would imply that he met the most minimal of Magnus’ standards. In truth, Alexander exceeded every quality, every standard Magnus had ever looked for in another soul. Hundreds of years and thousands of lovers but it's this man next to him who finally fits perfectly. Alec isn’t just enough for him, Magnus is fairly certain his heart had to expand to even attempt to contain his love for this man. 

Alexander Gideon Lightwood would always be incredibly and exceedingly more than just “enough.”

Magnus is finally shaking off his shock and finding the wits to tell Alec exactly this when Alec croaks out, broken and small, “I- I didn’t save them. They all died- died because I wasn’t good enough, Magnus. I failed them all. Me. Magnus. There are children dead because of _me_.”

Magnus wants to press and ask what exactly happened tonight but his immediate concern is the short, quickened breaths Alec is now struggling to take. His lungs appear to exert themselves trying to take in even the smallest amount of air. 

“Alexander, hey. Hey, look at me.” Magnus ducks to catch his eye and is forced to take Alec by the shoulders and make him turn to face him. Magnus places Alec’s blood soaked hand on his chest. He feels the wetness saturate the silk of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He grabs Alec’s chin to make him look up. “Breathe with me. Match my breathing, darling.” Alec’s eyes are wild and bloodshot, begging for relief; but he does as told and holds Magnus stare. “Please, just breathe. Focus on me, focus on the movement of my chest. Try to match it okay, darling?”

Magnus steadies his own heart rate and evens out his own breathing, exaggerating his efforts in order for Alec to follow his rhythmic inhale and exhale

He quietly instructs, “In, 1,2,3,...Out, 1,2,3…”

Still struggling, Alec shakes his head and stutters through his labored breathing, “If I can't- can’t save and protect them then- then what’s the point? Why am I here?”

“Shhhhh. Breathe darling. Just breathe with me,” Magnus encourages.

“Maybe, maybe…” Alec manages a deep inhale of air before continuing, “maybe I just sh-shouldn’t be here. Maybe that- that would be better.”

It takes several beats before the desolate confession registers with Magnus’ brain. _I’m not strong enough,_ it's his first thought. He is not strong enough to carry the knowledge that his Alexander thinks the world would be better off without him. It is too much. It’s too big a thing. And it threatens to crush Magnus beneath its oppressive weight. 

And Alexander, his Alexander, has been bearing the burden of this for Edom knows how long. 

He thinks of Alec laughing and smiling just this morning over breakfast and wanders if these thoughts were clamoring around in his head then. If he had only been pretending at happy and content while silently, and totally unbeknownst to Magnus, questioning the value of his existence.

Alec’s confession continues to hang between, an obstructive bubble of tense silence. 

Magnus moves to hold Alec’s face in his hands. His fingers smear Alec’s own blood across his cheeks and jaw. 

Magnus’ own despair dismantles his typically solid grasp on his glamor. His panic-stricken cat eyes rove hastily over the young face before him, studying it for a visible, tangible wound that he can heal and fix all of this. But it’s not that easy, no matter how much he wishes. 

He takes in the pale skin smudged and stained with crimson. The greens and golds of his hazel eyes amplified through the glassiness of gathered tears. The usually pink lips, now pale and downturned. It’s haunting. Beautiful - because Alec can’t be anything other than beautiful to Magnus - but wholly heart shattering. He’ll live with it for as long as he lives. He will never forget the look of his Shadowhunter at his lowest, soul-crushing point. And it will haunt Magnus every day for the rest of his life, wondering what he could have done to prevent them from ending up here.

Magnus finally finds his words, “Listen to me, Alexander, you are more caring than any Shadowhunter I have come across in all my hundreds of years. You wake up every day willing to work yourself to utter exhaustion to protect this city of millions. But you can’t protect everyone, Alexander. They are not all your responsibility. And I know that goes against every thread woven into your character, but you are only one person. That burden does not belong solely on your shoulders. And I will happily condemn anyone who tries to convince you otherwise to the depths of my father’s realm.”

Magnus’ tears finally spill over and his voice becomes broken, bordering on pleading. “Alexander, no world exists that would be improved by your absence. Do you hear me? There are possibly millions of alternate universes beyond this one and I can guarantee you that each and every one is improved by the existence of Alexander Gideon Lightwood in it. So don’t you dare think that we would be better off without you. This world needs you, this city needs you, your family needs you. _I need you_. We need your compassion, your vision, determination, your smile and your unconditional love. So you can’t leave us, okay?”

Still shaking with the effects of his panic attack, Alec squeezes his eyes shut, his face collapsing in agony. Fresh tears begin to stream. They mix with the blood and cut a red-tinged trail down his face. 

Magnus gathers Alexander against him, mindful of the damaged hand now cradled between them. He pulls his love into his lap and manages to maneuver them a little farther from the edge of the roof. Alec sobs broken and gasping against his chest. Magnus holds him tight, rocking them both slightly, his cheek resting on Alec’s head pillowed by his dark hair and comforted by the smell of their sandalwood shampoo. His own tears fall silently.

_///////////////////////////////////////_

**[ NOW ]**

Magnus storms through the Institute, radiating anxious _don’t dare stop_ me vibes that has Shadowhunters ducking out of his path. 

He turns quickly into the training room to find Clary and Jace sparing.

“Where is he?”

Jace pauses mid-punch to look at Magnus in uncertainty. “Who Alec?” At Magnus’ dangerous look Jace glances at Clary and back before saying, “I- I think he went on a run? Why? What’s the matter?”

“I need to find him.”

Magnus whirls out of the room, Jace still calling after him in confusion. 

Magnus strides through the converted church searching. Alec’s bedroom, the roof and the ops center are devoid of Alec as well. Heading toward the entrance, Magnus is preparing himself to track Alexander when the front door opens. 

Headphones in and staring down at his phone, Alec meanders through the door dressed in loose training pants, a sweat splotched shirt and running shoes. He looks up and sees Magnus standing there staring at him. A smile breaks across his face, his eyes alight as he exclaims, “Magnus! What are you doing here?”

Magnus continues to blink at him as Alec closes the distance and gives him a quick kiss. “Sorry, I’m all gross. I went for a run. I wish I had known you were coming, I would have stuck around.”

Magnus quickly inspects the man before him, even grabbing for his hands ensuring there are no injuries to his person. 

Alec huffs in both amusement and exasperation, “What are you doing?”

“Are you okay?” Magnus can’t disguise his anxiousness. 

“I’m fine. What brought this on, babe?”

“I was in your office. I came to surprise you but- but I found this in the fireplace and I got worried.” He pulls the burnt piece of paper from his pocket. 

Alec looks down at it and frowns, “Oh. Um. I- I can explain that. But not here, if that’s okay? Let's go back to my office.”

Alec leads Magnus back through the Institute, his hand a comforting, guiding pressure on Magnus lower back.

After the office door clicks shut behind them, Magnus turns abruptly to face Alec. “Are you sure you're okay? You aren’t lying to me?”

Hesitating slightly, Alec nods, “I’m mostly okay. I promise. I had a...moment earlier.”

Magnus continues to give him a worried look. 

Alec sighs, “That” he points to the paper still in Magnus’ grip, “is something - a, uh, technique - I read about to deal with you know…” He trails off fully aware that Magnus knows the mental health issues he’s referring to. “I read somewhere on the internet that when you’re having negative thoughts to write them down. Some people then write something positive for each or scratch the words out or physically destroy the paper. I, uh, struggled with the positive thoughts method.” Alec shuffles his feet, looking down and frowning a little. He then looks back up at Magnus and gives him a small side smile, “But mutilating those negatives thought has been surprisingly therapeutic.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I didn’t tell you I was doing it. It feels a little silly so I didn’t want to say anything until I’d tried it a few times.” Alec shrugs. Gesturing at his clothing, “I also read that some sort of exercise can be good. So I try to go for a run afterward as well. If I can fit it into my day, at least.” 

Magnus smiles closed-lipped but warm and genuine, “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

Alec rubs at the back of his neck, blushing. “Thanks. I’m- I’m trying, Magnus.”

And Magnus knows that. These past few months Alec has been more vocal about the dark episodes he finds himself in; more forthcoming in expressing his feelings, his fears and his doubts. There are still days when he comes home to the loft with bruised and battered hands, but they are fewer and farther between. And he always allows Magnus to heal and comfort him in those low moments. 

Magnus steps up to Alec and pulls him forward by the elbows to kiss him sweet and gentle. After a moment Alec pulls back smiling, fiddling with the newly placed ring on his finger. While it might not be entirely appropriate because of the anxiety it represents, the new habit makes Magnus smile just a bit. Shadows hide in the depths of Alec’s eyes still. But the happiness radiating from the array of brilliant colors diminishes their presence. 

Magnus turns toward the fireplace and strides over to it. He drops the scrap of paper back into the ashes and flicks his wrist. Flames engulf it, promptly turning it to dust. 

If Alexander doesn’t want to hang onto these words, then neither will Magnus. Because Alec is healing and trying his best to move forward into a less haunted existence. And Magnus doesn’t want to be left behind still clinging onto old burdens. He wants to be right there at Alexander’s side supporting him in his pursuit of a more positive life.

He turns back to Alec, “Hungry?”

Alec laughs, “Starving.”

Without breaking their gaze, Magnus twirls his right hand to open a portal and extends his left hand out to Alec, “Then come along, darling.”

Alec takes Magnus’ hand with a gentle squeeze and follows him through the portal. 

  
  


  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Lets yell about Malec together > Twitter @dani_dabbles


End file.
